


Damage Control

by hoesthetic



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Casual Sex, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, M/M, Neurodiversity, Recreational Drug Use, this isnt angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoesthetic/pseuds/hoesthetic
Summary: It’s a weird situation to be in. Mark may or may have not sucked Donghyuck off behind a 7-eleven a week prior. He has done weirder things. At least that was like, hot weird.(Donghyuck might be a drug dealer but Mark doesn't know, or care. Life's weird—love's weirder. The summer is coming to an end and friends don't act the way they do but luckily, they aren't even friends.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 72
Kudos: 360





	Damage Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloomy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloomy/gifts).



> so... hi. i haven't written markhyuck in.. what, almost two years?  
> i could say this is a fic about nothing. but i could also say this is specifically about hurt and how that plays with you when life is really, nothing. life isn't about plot. i suppose that's what this is about. so not much plot. a little. but not a lot.
> 
> beta'd by the amazing superior ao3 user gloomy aka ollie whomst i love w all my heart...... my markhyuck buddy.... this fic may be a pile of trash but it would be a huger pile if it wasnt for ur nice words and help and support..... T___T huuge credit to u for helping out with The Scenes that i rly struggled with... i love u! u literally own my heart and ass and soul and [insert inappropriate big **** jokes here]. i cant stress this enough: u fill my heart with joy and i would , do anything for u thanks ok.
> 
> extra tags + warning rambles: IRRESPONSIBLE UNPROTECTED SEX. LOL. dont do this kids. legit dont. the smut isnt like sexy either. that being said, if u are uncomfortable with smut, u can skim over it even though its there to establish tone, characters and plot. there’s only one explicit scene.  
> mental health is discussed and characters have issues with it.  
> mentions of a minor character death (in the past) and a mention of suicide regarding this specific character death.  
> recreational drug use, specifically weed and alcohol. vague mention of drug abuse.  
> mentions of sex as a coping mechanism.  
> explicit language.
> 
> enjoy!

It’s reaching the end of the summer, slowly but steadily, and Mark is sitting in a red car with a guy he barely knows.

Donghyuck just might be a drug dealer of some sort, but Mark isn’t sure. Jaemin attracts weird friends like flies so he wouldn’t be surprised. His car gives that kind of a vibe too—if that makes sense, but it probably doesn’t.

The car smelled a bit stuffy earlier, but now that the windows are rolled down, Mark can breathe easy. There’s candy wrappers beside his feet and a crumpled paper bag with a McDonald’s logo on it. Worn out seats, Mark doesn’t know shit about cars but the vehicle is obviously old and on the trashy side.

Donghyuck is playing _Wham!_ and Mark isn’t sure whether he should ask him to pull over and just walk away. It’s just that he is so _weird._ Attractive enough to fuck but the air around him—weird. It’s oddly intriguing. So maybe this is why Mark doesn’t ask him to pull over, and leave. 

”You’re sober, right?” Mark asks when Donghyuck takes a turn towards the parking lot of a big warehouse. The lot appears to be empty as it’s late enough that no one should be around. If there is—it’s not Mark’s problem. It’s also very much a good place to murder someone if Donghyuck turns out to be a homicidal freak. If so, Mark hopes Jaemin can connect the dots and collect his body. He doesn’t care much about it, either way.

”Huh? Yeah,” Donghyuck says, sounding a bit spaced out. 

”You don’t sound like you are.”

”What do you know?” Donghyuck turns towards him after parking the car. He rolls the windows up and Mark gives him a quick look. Donghyuck lifts his hands up like in surrender. 

”I can take you home if you aren’t having fun,” he says. Fun, what such a strange choice of a word. Is this about entertainment, joy?

”No. Unless you’re coming, and my roommate is home, so that wouldn’t work,” Mark mutters. 

“I’ll be coming,” Donghyuck says with a funny look on his face. It takes a second before Mark realizes what he means by that.

“Will you please shut up?” 

Donghyuck’s laugh is as strange as it is endearing. Mark smiles shortly before he puts his hand on the door and pushes it open. Stepping out, he leans down to look at Donghyuck for a second.

“And turn the music off for fuck’s sake.” 

Then he slams the door shut. The weather is still warm enough for Mark not to get cold when he takes a few steps to the backseat door and gets in again. Fortunately, the music is turned off. 

“Thank you,” he says with a bit of bite but with a small smile on his lips. Donghyuck looks at him over his shoulder and grins. 

“Don’t like Wham, huh?” Donghyuck asks, turning the engine off, finally, and opens his door. It’s only when he has accompanied Mark to the backseat that he answers. 

“No. Literally anything else but Wham… or Bon Jovi,” Mark mumbles. He didn’t come there to discuss shitty artists. He came there to get laid, with a possible drug dealer, but again, _what does he know._

It’s a weird situation to be in. Mark may or may have not sucked Donghyuck off behind a 7-eleven a week prior. He has done weirder things. At least that was like, hot weird. 

“Aw,” Donghyuck doesn’t say anything else. The space between them is too large to bear so Mark scoots over. It’s not exactly awkward but feels more like neither of them are really there, which just makes it even more, well, _weird._ He doesn’t know why everything appears so wildly alien around him.

Mark kisses him anyway. 

Maybe he should’ve asked, because maybe he doesn’t do kisses with no strings attached or something, maybe he’s specific like that, but Mark didn’t and now it’s too late. He doesn’t push him away so Mark keeps kissing him, and comes to find out that Donghyuck does it lazily, sloppily. 

He tastes a bit stale and sweet. Maybe it’s not the best idea to concentrate on the taste of someone’s saliva. Mark focuses on sliding his lips against Donghyuck’s, shuddering when he laps his tongue across his lower lip. 

Donghyuck runs his hand through his hair, and Mark doesn’t care enough to complain that he’s going to mess it up. He doubts it’ll look neat by the end of this anyway, at least if things go like he wants them to. 

His own hands make their way to Donghyuck’s sides. It’s an awkward angle to be in, with knees pointing forward while their waists are turned towards one another. 

“Wait,” Mark mumbles against his lips, ending the kiss to move around. It’s a tight fit no matter what they’ll do. He decides to get on his knees on the seat and straddle Donghyuck’s thighs, looking down towards him before sitting down on his lap, as if to ask if it’s alright to. He doesn’t do anything to stop him, just looks at him with a slight flush on his cheeks and a little grin, before placing his palms on Mark’s waist, tugging him a bit closer. 

Mark dubs this as a confirmation of it being alright so he lowers himself in his lap, leaning back close to kiss him again. He holds his hands on Donghyuck’s shoulders, smoothing his palms over the fabric of his t-shirt. The wet sound of lips colliding and parting makes something drop in his stomach. It’s always been the little things like that. 

Donghyuck exhales into his mouth, sneaking his hands underneath Mark’s shirt. They’re colder than he expected them to be, drawing small shivers out of him. 

“Will you fuck me?” Mark asks. He isn’t exactly sure when his eyes slipped shut but he doesn’t bother to open them again. The strangled sound Donghyuck makes is enough of a reaction for him. 

“You prepared?” Donghyuck’s voice is soft, the warmth of his breath cooling on Mark’s spit wet lips. 

“Mmh.”

“That’s hot.” A little amazed, taken aback or just hoarse, Mark can’t tell—Donghyuck sounds appreciative anyway. It makes a smile tug on the corners of his mouth.

“Just,” Mark starts, opening his eyes to catch Donghyuck looking at him a bit crosseyed, “practical.”

He doesn’t let Donghyuck say anything, just kisses him again instead. Mark shifts in his lap, dropping his hand from his shoulder to between Donghyuck’s legs, palming him carefully through his joggers. Donghyuck sighs softly. 

It’s only when Mark has his jeans pulled off, dropped onto the floor into a creased pundle, and legs spread awkwardly, that he realizes. 

“You do have a condom, right?” Mark asks. Donghyuck is on his knees between his legs, looking like a deer caught in the headlights by his question. He blinks slowly. Mark lets out a sigh, letting the back of his head hit the window he’s leaning against. 

“Uh,” Donghyuck says dumbly. Mark squeezes his eyes shut. The arousal is turning cold to something like disappointment. It’s not like he can blame Donghyuck when he’s as much as a fucking idiot himself. 

“Are you clean?” Mark asks, opening his eyes. A voice behind his skull is violently nagging that no, this isn’t how you deal with a situation like this. But it’s not like Mark has ever said he’s the epitome of brilliant ideas. 

“Yeah… I get regularly tested,” Donghyuck’s voice is somewhat muffled, an incoherent mumble. Mark cocks his brow.

“What a proper boy you are. I don’t care, you can still fuck me, if you want to,” Mark sighs. He knows he should care but he doesn’t. “I will murder you if I catch something from you though,” he adds, even though he doubts it’s very threatening considering he’s half laying there, half naked. 

“But are _you_ clean?” Donghyuck asks, narrowing his eyes a bit. His palm is resting on Mark’s knee.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark nods, “you can murder me too, you know. If you catch something.” His thoughts jump back to how Donghyuck could still be a homicidal freak. Oh well. The sex better be good if that happens. 

Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t seem to care either. It’s—not fascinating, but something like that. Reckless or carefree, Mark isn’t so sure. 

He tries to not think about it but there’s something hot about it. Filthy, to let someone who is more or less just an acquaintance to fuck him bare. Mark moves his hand on his dick, still hard hard, rubbing his palm over the flushed skin gently. 

“What about lube?” Donghyuck asks, moving his hand to Mark’s inner thigh. He shivers softly. 

“Mmh,” he mumbles, “I think it hasn’t dried down. Or I hope so.” 

Donghyuck bites on his lower lip, looking more thoughtful than anything else. He slides his hand between Mark’s legs, carefully rubbing his fingertips against his rim. Donghyuck’s shirtless, chest littered in bitemarks, lanky with a scribble-looking black mark on his ribs, some sort of a tattoo, or maybe a manifestation of his vision or something. Mark doesn’t know. He needs to stop thinking about things like this. God. 

Donghyuck’s fingers slip inside easily, two at first, and Mark lets out a content exhale. Everything has taken way too long for it to be called a quickie, despite thinking it’d be one, and it feels—fulfilling. Finally getting something right. 

“That’s nice,” Mark exhales. Donghyuck doesn’t really need to stretch him out any more but he won’t complain about it, even if he likes the sting. He’s a little sore from thoroughly stretching himself out earlier, but just a tiny bit, and in a good way.

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything in response, just smiles shortly. He moves his fingers in a calm pace and Mark wraps his own around his cock, stroking himself slowly. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Mark says after a while, even though it’s good.

“Just checking if you’re still wet enough,” Donghyuck tells him. It, for some reason, makes him shiver. 

“I am. I use great lube,” he pushes his hips down towards his hand as he speaks. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, drawing a quiet chuckle from Mark. He’s kinda cute, or like—of course. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t think so. Right. 

“So?” Mark asks impatiently despite the waves of pleasurable warmth spreading through him when Donghyuck doesn’t remove his hand and just keeps on fingering him sloppily. His complaints morph into a simple _oh_ when Donghyuck’s fingertips smooth over his prostate, a little clumsily. 

“Nice,” Donghyuck says, seeming oddly proud and just stupidly smug. 

“You’re embarrassing,” his voice sounds strangled even in his own ears. “Keep doing that.” 

“Keep being embarrassing?” Donghyuck laughs. Mark shakes his head, hair flopping around. Shivers pass through his body as he keeps rubbing his prostate, arousal hot in his stomach again. 

“No,” Mark laughs a little, just a little, “keep your fingers there, or take ’em out and just fuck me.” 

Donghyuck makes another noise from his throat. Mark really doesn’t get him, but he doesn’t need to either. He pulls out his fingers and drags down his joggers, to mid thigh, and wraps his lube slick fingers around his dick. Mark watches with eyes half closed. The position makes his neck ache but his legs are just too fucking long to find a better angle to lay in.

“Nice,” Mark says. Donghyuck looks surprised for a second before he lets out a dumbfounded laugh. He just shakes his head, grabbing Mark by his thigh and tugging him a bit closer. 

“I should’ve just ridden you,” Mark mumbles—it’s cramped and uncomfortable. Donghyuck just shrugs his shoulders. 

“It’s not too late to change,” he says. Mark shakes his head. 

“No, just—I’m tired of waiting,” it’s probably a little desperate but honestly, he really does not care. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to have any complaints about it, leaning over Mark with his hand resting against the top of the backrest, another hand guiding his dick in. 

“Oh shit,” Mark gasps when the dull head pushes in. The slide isn’t exactly comfortable but it makes his stomach tighten nevertheless. 

“Geez,” Donghyuck says, “relax.”

“You’re so fucking unsexy. I’m trying to,” it comes out as strangled again. Donghyuck places his hand on Mark’s waist after pulling up his shirt up to his chest, squeezing him. 

“Just move,” Mark tells him. It’s so—fuck, and Donghyuck does as he’s told. He lets out a quiet groan but to Mark’s relief he doesn’t say anything porny like _baby, you’re so tight_ and just thrusts in. They have been talking too much. Mark bites on his tongue not to let out any embarrassing sounds, stroking himself with sloppy movements. 

It’s getting hot in the car but it could also just be the sweat building on his skin. Donghyuck’s thrusts miss his prostate—he’s there to get his dick wet and leave, probably, not to please Mark, which is okay, of course it is—but the sensitivity has him curling his toes nevertheless. 

Donghyuck stops to slide his another foot on the flooring and yeah, Mark isn’t complaining about it after a second because then he’s holding him by the waist with both of his hands this time, and his thrusts feel way more precise. 

“Oh my fucking God,” Mark mumbles, voice surprisingly broken. 

“You know,” Donghyuck starts, “you have this attitude when you’re just hanging around, but you seem so desperate now.” Some of the syllables get lost beneath pants. 

It shouldn’t make him feel the way it does. He moans anyway. 

“Shut up,” he tells him. It sounds broken and desperate. Mark feels hot all over, eyes squeezed shut. His hair makes an odd sliding sound against the window as the thrusts make him move back and forth in tiny motions, shirt rolling upwards further. Mark’s abdominals clench and a violent shiver wrecks through his body, another moan falling from his lips he doesn’t have time to catch. 

The sound of skin slapping is vulgar, loud, and very much the only source of noise in the car other than their panting and occasional curses. He fucks into him roughly, chasing his own high and getting Mark all squirmy as a side effect.

Donghyuck says something under his breath, too incoherent for Mark to be able to tell the words apart but there’s something inexplicably hot in the husky tone. Mark wishes he didn’t find it arousing, and afterwards it’ll probably feel awfully embarrassing but his judgement is blurry and out of character. 

Mark doesn’t want to ask for more but he wants more. His hand moves sloppily, rubbing over the sensitive tip and all the spots that make him feel warmer through sparks. He has to draw his hand back to spit on it before wrapping it back around his dick. 

“Donghyuck—fuck,” Mark didn’t mean to say his name, it’s weird to, “can you just…”

Mark doesn’t get to finish his sentence, cut off by the hand that slams itself next to his head on the window to cage him in, and Donghyuck’s lips on his. His rhythm falters while kissing him, and Mark shifts to press his hips against him firmer, as in trying to reach for friction.

The sweat from his skin is surely wetting the seats, it’s so hot in there, it’s so hot to be there, like this, and Mark feels hot in his stomach. He gasps against Donghyuck’s mouth when the pressure on his prostate spreads through his body and something swoops in the bottom of his stomach. Donghyuck moans, a little muffled, a bit more desperate, and it’s safe to assume he’s close. His thrusts get more frantic, and fortunately for Mark, he manages to hit the spots he wants him to. 

“So good,” Donghyuck half says-half gasps. He’s warm against him, unbelievably so, and the grunts from his throat keep breaking into something more like whines. 

“Come inside me,” Mark tells him. Donghyuck lets out a loud moan at this, and he keeps jerking himself off more desperately, hand in a tight fist.

The one hand that’s still on his waist squeezes harder and even that’s enough to draw a small moan from Mark’s lips, feeling so awfully sensitive everywhere and so on edge. Donghyuck’s face is still close but they aren’t even kissing anymore. Mark moves his hand faster, and it doesn’t take long before he feels the edge approaching. 

It feels great, of course, and Mark can’t stop himself from letting out a strangled whine as he works his fist. It’s so much more intense with Donghyuck fucking into him, and it’s enough to make him spill over his hand, across his bare stomach. 

“Fuck,” Mark gasps out, somehow managing to kick the headrest of the seat, but it isn’t enough to distract him. He works himself through it, feeling very much on fire. Donghyuck’s fingernails press into his skin and his hips jerk uncoordinatedly. He pulls further back, probably to move his hips better, to drive his dick into Mark—who’s admittedly clenching, shaking—faster. 

Mark watches with tired eyes, as he comes down with still touching himself slowly, the face Donghyuck makes as he comes. His eyebrows are furrowed, sweat glistening on his skin, bottom lip worried between his teeth—the sounds he lets out are muffled because of this, but it still manages to sound so good. Dark hair sticking to his forehead, Mark hates how sexy he finds him. 

He’s sensitive and sore, not able to stop himself from whining quietly. Donghyuck’s chin snaps down to his chest and he lets out a broken sound of a curse, burying himself deep. His flushed chest heavies with his his breaths. 

“Holy shit,” Mark mumbles. His breathing is mouthfuls of air, trying to calm down, body trembly. Donghyuck pulls out and slumps back on the seat, leaning against the opposite door and the window above him.

Mark swallows, looking at the beige roof. He lets out a deep sigh, then shivering when he feels the trail of cum slip out of him. He feels so dirty. But shamefully enough, it makes him feel sort of dizzy. Laying there, cum covering his chest that’s bared by a shirt pulled up to his armpits, sweaty and sore, still all spread out and vulnerable. 

It’s quiet as the both of them try to catch their breaths. Mark pulls his legs closer to him, despite them feeling a lot like jelly but also uncomfortably stiff at the same time. Sitting up feels a bit like effort but he does it anyway, and if the cum spreads on the seats it’s not his problem. It’s not his car, after all.

Mark ruffles his hair, pulls it back from his forehead. It’s disgustingly damp. He wants to wipe his torso just so he can pull his shirt back down but he has nothing where to wipe his hand. He goes for it anyway, collecting the cum to his fingers and wiping it on his knee. Mark can deal with that after he gets tissues—if Donghyuck has any. He better have them. He tugs his t-shirt down. 

Mark glances at Donghyuck. He has pulled his joggers back up, just sitting there shirtless and hair a mess, cheeks flushed. The windows are fogged, is what Mark notices only now, and it’s a lot dimmer. 

“Do you have tissues?” Mark asks. It comes out as a bit hoarse. 

“Yeah, but only in the front,” Donghyuck tells him but doesn’t seem to move a muscle. 

“Can I have them?” He presses on, not bothering to even sound frustrated. He just wants to get dressed, getting a little cold with sweat cooling down. It’d be nice to get a mouthful of fresh air instead of the stale air inside the car that must smell obnoxiously like sex, sweat and other bodily fluids. He can’t tell the smell apart like this but it’s easy to assume. 

Donghyuck yawns, lifting up his arms and stretching. Mark doesn’t bother to look away, rather studies the way his muscles ripple beneath his skin. It’s not that he’s extremely fit, barely defined—skinny, but there’s something. That something is attractive. This, alone, is enough to make everything feel even more weird. It’s probably the afterglow. 

“Sure,” he says. Donghyuck picks up his shirt and pulls it on, gives Mark a grin before opening the door and stepping out. Mark lets out a deep sigh, shifting on the seat. The stickiness on his skin is uncomfortable. The soreness is more of a content feeling. 

When Donghyuck’s back in the driver’s seat, rummaging through his things, Mark stares at the fogged glass that’s slowly returning back to clear. His mind seems to be doing the same thing. It isn’t enough to make him ashamed, still sitting there his dick out, sweaty, gross.

“Thanks,” Mark mumbles as he takes the crumpled tissues from Donghyuck’s offering hand, one that shifts into a thumbs up. The car makes a loud roar when Donghyuck turns it on, as he’s wiping the almost dried down cum from his knee. It’s a little awkward to wipe his ass but he isn’t going to put his pants back on with liquids dripping down to the back of his thighs. He winces a little, biting on his tongue to suppress any sort of shiver or a reaction. He’s sensitive. Donghyuck has his phone out, not paying attention to him for Mark’s sake. 

It doesn’t take long before Mark can pull his jeans back on, wiping the mess from the seat from where was sitting. Donghyuck can deal with the potential stain it could leave behind. He drops the few tissues on the floor. 

The outside air makes him grimace. It’s refreshing, sure, but mostly cold. He’s so cold. Sitting back to the shotgun, it’s not much better because the air inside does smell pretty fucking bad, but rolling down windows while driving would make him freeze. Mark just can’t win. He doubts Donghyuck is doing better. He glances at him—he’s texting, probably, thumbs tapping his screen in an erratic manner, looking focused.

“Take me home,” Mark tells him, suddenly feeling very tired. He shifts on his seat. A shower sounds like a brilliant idea right now. Donghyuck nods but keeps his stare on his screen. Mark doesn’t bother to sigh, to do anything else than turn his face towards the window and wait. The parking lot is as empty as before but it’s nothing he wouldn’t expect. 

Mark pulls out his phone from the pocket of his jeans—it’s really a surprise how it didn’t drop to the floor of the backseat. There’s a few notifications on his screen but nothing that stands out. Mark runs his hands through his hair, puts them back in his lap and stares at them.

The waves of regret are heavy and made worse by the way Donghyuck’s side profile looks when Mark takes another look at him. 

It’s hard to ignore it: he is beautiful.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck doesn’t leave Mark’s mind after that, which is incredibly distressing. It’s not like he’s thinking about him all the time, he isn’t an utter freak, but it’s still noticeable. Something between a daydream or a fantasy, and reflecting on recent memories. 

Mark’s sitting on the balcony of his apartment, a cigarette propped behind his ear. Jaehyun has his lighter but he’s taking his time, apparently, despite having told Mark he’d be just out. It’s been at least ten minutes.

Before being roommates, they’re friends. Mark’s heard people saying that living with someone can ruin a friendship but if them sleeping together and he kinda, sorta, falling in love with Jaehyun didn’t ruin anything, he doubts this would. It hasn’t so far. Mark happens to fall in love a little with everyone he kisses, touches, whatever. There’s a lot of emotions to be felt. 

He’s like that. 

The door opens. Mark doesn’t bother turning his head or looking up. 

“What took you so long?” He asks, feigning a pissed tone. Jaehyun sits down beside him with a short huff of a laugh. 

“I don’t know, maybe had a quickie on your bed,” he says as he offers Mark his lighter.

“It’s pronounced _keesh,_ and please don’t eat on my bed.” 

Jaehyun laughs dryly, “Very funny.”

Mark chuckles and proceeds to light his cigarette. 

“You know, I think I might quit my job,” Jaehyun says suddenly. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Like—for real this time?”

“For sure. I can’t stand it anymore. Even your job—no offense—sounds more appealing. Flipping burgers all day? Delightful. But making yet another Fuckass-Frapuccino for some wannabe Instagram influencer? I really can’t take it. At least people getting fast food at three in the morning is true life. Not just filtered pictures.”

Mark really can’t suppress his smile when Jaehyun vents like this. Quickly, the smile turns into laughter.

“God, you are ridiculous. 

“Yeah, well, am I wrong? The pay is the same and you get to fuck around in the kitchen and I have to, what, smile and burn my fingers for some overpriced coffee. I hate capitalism,” Jaehyun is smiling while he speaks, hand out for Mark to offer his cigarette. He does so. 

“You’re right, you’re right. Quit it then. What have you got to lose?” 

The truth; a lot. Maybe in some ideal world Jaehyun could quit his job and immediately find something better, something actually fulfilling and with better pay. It isn’t like that, they both know it, but Jaehyun still just shrugs his shoulders and grins. 

“Nothing! Living on pasta and ketchup the next few months. Cool.” 

“It’s really like that,” Mark mumbles with the same smile on his lips. Jaehyun manages to make him feel, if not good, then just at ease. With others, there’s this burden but with him it’s just easy. Maybe Mark did love him romantically at one point but now it’s just platonic. 

His mind keeps slipping back to Donghyuck, though. With him it’s strange. It’s sort of infuriating, really, how Mark doesn’t seem to be able to pinpoint the specific feeling, problem or thought. It just lingers in the air. A some type of longing. 

“You remember Jaemin, right?” Mark switches the subject. When Jaehyun nods he continues speaking. 

“He introduced to me this dude. And, well, we might’ve slept together. Like once. Once and a half. In his car. Before that behind a 7-eleven, of all places. That’s beside the point—”

“No, that’s absolutely the point,” Jaehyun interrupts him, “tell me.”

Mark rolls his eyes and flicks the excess ash of his cigarette before taking another drag. 

“I don’t know what tell you. Sort of blew him behind a 7-eleven. One of those gas station ones. I don’t know how we ended up there. Or, yeah, I bumped to him at the store, got to talking because we smoked weed together before, with Jaemin there, of course. I mean that’s the strangest thing. I really have no idea how things escalated from chatting to a blowjob.”

Jaehyun looks sort of shocked but mostly amused and proud, too. 

“Man, congratulations. You’ve evolved into a real manwhore.”

“Shut up, you are way worse.”

”Maybe. But yeah, what about him? Unless you just wanted to flex on me with whatever that was.”

“I guess that’s the thing too. I can’t seem to stop thinking about him and I don’t know why. It’s annoying. If he was some sort of Mr. Perfect, maybe I’d get it but he’s just a guy. And I think he might be a drug dealer as well.”

“Hey, that’s a pro, isn’t it?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders and grins. 

“Sure,” he says as he puts out his cigarette and gets up. Mark leans against the railing, looking over the edge as if to measure the distance between him and the ground. 

“But it’s bothering me, I guess. I can’t figure him out.” His voice could easily be lost in the breeze but by the way Jaehyun sighs, he must’ve heard it.

“You stress too much. You said it, he’s just a guy. Let it be.” 

Mark bites down on his lower lip, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. It’s not like Jaehyun is wrong, he never seems to be, but Mark just _can’t._ It’s the idiotic part of his brain that keeps him awake at night and drives his stupid impulses. He’s just sort of, well, tired. Exhausted in so many ways. It’d be easier to just fuck and not think, smoke weed and not think, sleep and not think. It wasn’t really supposed to be like this. 

Despite all of this, Mark turns around and smiles at Jaehyun. 

“You are absolutely right. I’ll do that.” 

“Good boy,” Jaehyun grins, “now help me get up. I’m old.” 

Mark scoffs but again, does as told. His palm is clammy and warm. There’s something about Jaehyun’s casual and calm demeanor that’s like saying _it’s going to be alright_ and Mark almost believes it. Maybe he could convince himself to believe it if he tries hard enough. 

”You think your boss would hire me?” Jaehyun asks.

”Yeah, no. I think she would smell your shitty work ethic a mile away.”

”As if you’re any better. I refuse believe you are.”

Mark kicks Jaehyun’s calf, albeit softly.

”Literally, fuck you. I am a hard worker,” he tells him. Jaehyun laughs.

”Sure thing,” he mumbles, ”sure thing.”

Mark might just kill him, one day. With love, of course, but homicide, nevertheless.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mark doesn’t have anything against parties but it’s that everyone is wasted, and he isn’t particularly a fan of drinking. His body doesn’t react to it well—he always ends up vomiting and probably not having a very good time, often in a corner of a room when the alcohol triggers the dark parts of his mind to show up in saturated colours. 

As in, it makes him sad. It’s sort of embarrassing, to be in your twenties and still haven’t figured out your limits.

This is why it isn’t very much of a surprise that he isn’t having a very good time at the semi cramped apartment filled with friends and acquaintances of his, most people drunk or on something else, and Mark is nursing a beer in his hand, completely sober. 

The cycle is always the same. He wonders whether he should drink moderately and responsibly, or just go for it and have an awful time. Usually he goes for the second one and then just gives up after half an hour when his stomach is turning in nausea already. 

“I don’t like parties,” Mark mutters to Jaemin. 

“Literally no one is forcing you to be here,” he rolls his eyes. It’s a fair point but Mark isn’t going to tell him that. Instead he just purses his lips and lifts the glass bottle to his mouth, taking a shallow sip. The lime tastes artificial, sweet but bitter. He wants to go home. He doesn’t want to go home. 

“Jaehyun has someone over,” Mark says with a sigh. 

“Damn,” Jaemin doesn’t sound too interested. “Join them.”

“I fucking hate you. I hope you know that.” 

Jaemin response is slamming his palm on top of Mark’s head and ruffling his hair with too much force than necessary. He squirms away from his touch, dragging his ass on the floor to create distance between them. Mark gives him a look, and even if it’s not very threatening, at least Jaemin doesn’t lay his hand on him again. 

“Donghyuck’s here, by the way,” Jaemin nods towards the crowd of people on the other end of the living room. Mark wishes he wouldn’t have turned his head so fucking quickly. 

“And?” 

Jaemin smiles. It’s a little unnerving. 

“You should talk to him at some point.”

“Why? I barely know him,” Mark looks back at Jaemin. It’s a blessing he couldn’t spot Donghyuck with a quick look. Why that is a blessing is another matter completely, and also something he doesn’t want to dwell on. Mark takes a sip, wishing he would’ve just gone for it and gotten hammered despite everything. 

“Yeah, well here’s a wild concept for you; getting know to someone.” 

Mark can play stupid if Jaemin wants that from him. 

“But enlighten me, why would I want to get to know him?” It’s not exactly rocket science. Jaemin knows what Donghyuck and him have gotten up to, not in great detail, of course. But he knows.

“He’s cute. Bomb dick game,” Jaemin can sound so very casual about it. Mark doesn’t get why he’s so fucking jittery himself. 

“How do you know _that?_ ” Mark narrows his eyes. 

“Jealous?”

“No. Just curious.” And he isn’t even lying when he says that. There isn’t a reason why he would be jealous, so he isn’t. If something is getting to his nerves, it’s the way Jaemin is teasing him like there’s a joke Mark’s missing out on. He bites on his inner cheek. “Have you slept with him?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jaemin’s smiling but he looks like the embodiment of Satan himself. 

“Not really,” Mark says. Truthfully, too. Jaemin knows the ugliest sides of him already so he isn’t going to start acting just for something like this. 

“Aw,” he shakes his head. “Too bad. You should still talk to him. Who knows, maybe you’d have a better time.”

“What are you, a matchmaker?” 

“I mean, technically. You met him because of me.” 

He isn’t wrong. Again. Mark looks up towards the roof, tapping the bottle in his hand with his fingertips. Someone is playing music but it’s in some other room so he can’t even tell the beat apart from the overall noise. 

“Fair. Maybe I will. But if he’s wasted though…” Mark trails off. He really didn’t come there to hook up, but he can’t remember the reason why he’s there anyway, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. He’ll see. 

When Mark looks at Jaemin again, he’s chugging down his beer. What is there to say about that? He looks like he’s dying of thirst. 

“Go talk to him,” Jaemin says after a second, “now.” 

“You sound like my mom.”

“I hope that’s a compliment.” 

Mark gives him a deadpan look and shakes his head. 

“Sorry, mommy issues and whatnot. But I will talk to him. Just because you asked so _nicely."_

Jaemin slams his palm on Mark’s shoulder and gives him an encouraging pat. 

“I’m proud, I’m proud.”

However, to be able to achieve that, Mark can’t be sober. He lifts his beer to his lips and starts drowning it, mimicking Jaemin’s thirst.

It takes a few more drinks and messy shots in the kitchen for his head to start spinning. It takes longer for him to spot Donghyuck hanging out on the crowded balcony with people Mark doesn’t know. He’s laughing, lips spread wide and teeth visible. The whole ordeal. Head thrown back. It’s disgusting, how movie-like it looks. If it was a cliche film, Donghyuck would look at him and catch his eye, smile but this time more gentle, a special form of affection. But it isn’t, and Donghyuck probably only slept with him just because he could, so Mark looks away. 

He looks down and spots a stain on the hem of his hoodie. A part of him pretends he is somewhere else. 

It’s later on, when Mark has escaped the hectic apartment to the playground between the buildings, sitting in a swing and smoking a cigarette, that he sees him again. It appears like the white hoodie Donghyuck is wearing is swallowing him whole. It feels odd to think of a grown man as adorable but it’s the first word that pops into his head. It’s as odd to think of people of their age as grownups. It’s a strange stage of life. 

Mark doesn’t dare to wave at, or otherwise bother, him, and just kicks the sand below his feet and takes a long drag. Sometimes he feels shame over it, smoking. It’s an ugly, embarrassing habit, and he doesn’t really know why he doesn’t try harder to quit. A part of him doesn’t want to. And that’s what makes it so much worse. 

Instead of taking a turn and disappearing into the night with a lazy stroll, Donghyuck walks towards him. It’s hard to make out if he decided it on the go or had planned to do so beforehand. As if it matters.

“What’s up?” Mark asks him, ignoring the sudden tight feeling in his stomach, when Donghyuck sits on the swing next to him with a funny look on his face. It feels like Mark has been studying his face too much already so he looks away. 

“Not much, not much. Wanted to get fresh air.”

“The balcony wouldn’t do?”

“Nah, too crowded.” Mark isn’t surprised to hear that but it strikes as a little odd. He figured Donghyuck would like crowds, a life of the party and whatnot. But then again, everyone has limits. 

“I get it. What do you think, if we were quiet enough, could we hear them? The balcony-people.”

“The balcony-people?” Donghyuck repeats with laughter in his voice. It makes him smile too. “Probably. Let’s find out. Don’t breathe.”

So he doesn’t. Mark fights the urge to look at him again. Christ, he’s drunk. Not head-spinning wasted but drunk nevertheless. Holding his breath, like underwater, it’s all too metaphorical. But it works, the sound of music and laughter and muffled yelling reaches them. 

Donghyuck whistles and as if giving him permission to breathe again, Mark draws in a breath. His cigarette is going to waste, burning up by itself between his fingers. He drops it on the ground and steps on it. It’s not like the noises from the party completely fade out now that they just sit there.

Mark glances at him. He’s just there, doing nothing other than swaying a little, chin tilted the slightest bit. Donghyuck looks confused a lot of the time, or maybe curious is a more appropriate word. There’s something apathetic in him as well, which makes it an awfully odd mixture. 

For some weird fucking reason, it feels like Donghyuck is going to mess his life up in one way or another.

Maybe it’s drunken thoughts, being sad is so goddamn poetic, isn’t it? Mark’s face feels warm. He kicks the ground again, the sand flies around. Nothing extraordinary or special about that, he keeps his eyes fixated on it anyway. It’s better than looking at Donghyuck and getting caught up in his own feelings. 

Feelings? Thoughts, more like.

Mark isn’t going to lean closer in the swing and kiss him. He knows everyone he kisses he’s going to fall in love with. It’s stupid. The damage has been done already. Mark has kissed him—done a lot more than that too. He swallows. It’s so quiet, eerily so, and a part of him wishes he was alone with Donghyuck at an empty parking lot again, instead of the playground.

“You’re kinda weird,” Mark blurts out instead of all the other things he could’ve said. He doesn’t stop to regret it, just brushes it off. It doesn’t matter. 

“Better to be weird than boring,” Donghyuck mumbles. There’s a slight slur to his words, or maybe it just comes with the mumble. 

“You’re calling me boring?” 

“No. I’m just saying. In general,” Donghyuck laughs a little. Mark purses his lips and keeps his eyes at the ground. _I’m glad,_ he whispers to himself in the safety of his mind. He shouldn’t care, yeah, why should he, but he does, cares in amounts bewildering and scary. 

It’s the alcohol. His face feels hot and if someone was to make him laugh, he wouldn’t be able to stop laughing. 

”Donghyuck,” Mark says suddenly. 

“Mark.” 

“Are you a drug dealer?” It’s definitely the alcohol 

Donghyuck snorts. Mark can see him kicking the sand aggressively in his peripheral. 

“Oh? Are you interested?” He asks, tone of his voice somehow amused yet completely serious. That doesn’t make any sense. None of this does. 

“No,” Mark shakes his head, “Or, I mean, yeah, but that isn’t why I asked...” he trails off. 

“Well, I’m not. Sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic at all. 

“Oh.” 

Mark shuts up, lifting his chin so he can attempt to count the stars on the polluted night sky instead, wondering where the idea sprung from in the first place. Maybe he should ask Jaemin about it. It’s probably something he said. 

“What do you do, then?” 

“Part-time at a bowling alley, and study… Try to, anyway. I’m, uh, on a summer break, still. Sort of,” Donghyuck says. It’s that kind of a statement that begs for further questions meanwhile it’s indifference signals how he should drop the subject. Before Mark has time to ask what he means by it, Donghyuck turns the question around.

“How about you? Are you a drug dealer?” 

Mark rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. 

“No, customer service. A fast food restaurant, don’t wanna name it in case you’d hunt me down.” 

“And why would I do that?” 

Mark can’t quite figure out what his tone is like. Suggestive, perhaps, a little cocky, self-important, but humorous. He glances at him. Donghyuck’s expression is as much a conundrum as everything else. 

“You could be a stalker for all I know. I don’t really know anything about you,” it comes out far too raw and honest. 

“How thrilling,” Donghyuck laughs, “I see, I see.”

“You’re not gonna deny it?” 

“Would explain why you seem to pop out of every corner.”

Mark lets out a nervous laugh. 

“I’ve met you, what, three times? And only twice by accident.” 

“The keyword being _met._ I’ve seen you around.”

“Right, you’re starting to freak me out, man.” 

Donghyuck’s laughter is bubbly and nasal, a lot like his speaking voice. It’s sort of endearing. Mark hesitates for a second before speaking. He can’t really tell where the lines between jokes and truth blend with him. It’s perplexing.

“Are you for real though? Have you seen me more than that?” 

“Yeah. Just so you will sleep at night, I haven’t stalked you. I don’t intend to. I’m just observant,” Donghyuck reaches over to give a reassuring pat on his shoulder. He wants to lean into the touch but he doesn’t, his body doesn’t betray him— not this time—just smiles shortly. 

“But where?” 

“Have I seen you? Around.”

How infuriating it is and how Mark doesn’t know how to feel. Is Donghyuck being like this on purpose, to mess with his head? Or just a brat by nature. 

“Alright, don’t tell me… I’m starting to suspect you’re just a liar.”

“Me, a liar?” 

“Mmh.”

“I could say that I’m not but if I was a liar, I would say that too, so I just won’t say anything.”

“Smart,” Mark says, smiles crookedly. Maybe Donghyuck is a liar. For some reason the idea doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. They could play pretend and be in fake love. Not that Mark wants the real kind. Just something to keep him warm when the summer’s over. And it’s over soon. 

“Aight,” Donghyuck says and gets up, “I’ll head inside. You coming?” 

Mark wants to say yes, wants to pull him back and make him stay, wants to get up and walk home even though he’d never make it, wants to climb in Donghyuck’s bed and see what his room is like, wants to get in his own bed and hide under his covers. He shakes his head. 

“I think I better head home,” Mark says, “if I figure out how to.” Calling a cab would be too expensive and he isn’t sure if the buses still run. 

Donghyuck nods with understanding on his face. 

“Sure, I’ll see you. Around,” he walks a few steps backwards as he speaks. It draws a laugh from Mark. 

“Yeah, see ya.” 

It’s a strange delight to watch him turn around and walk towards the front doors of the building. Mark just sits there, studies the back of his head until it becomes just a round shape when Donghyuck pulls his hood up and disappears through the doors. 

It’s only when Mark has found his way to a bus that will take him relatively close to his apartment that he realizes that it was never really awkward between him and Donghyuck. Not even though the last time they saw each other was in Donghyuck’s car, smelling of sex and the air uncomfortable with Mark’s own discomfort and crankiness. He swallows and leans his head against the window. 

It doesn’t really feel real. Any of it. The buildings and streets and lights passing by. Just distant disfigured shapes. And when Mark looks down to his lap, his hands seem rather alien as well. It makes his chest tighten in the fleeting fear of _what if, what if again—_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s another house party, one of Jaehyun’s friends, or a friend of Jaehyun’s friends, Mark doesn’t care nor care to know. The only reason he’s there is because he knows Donghyuck will be also. It’s pathetic, really. It’s starting to seem that he’s the stalker. 

Jaehyun is off somewhere, probably with a guy or a girl, dancing in a corner or doing something Mark doesn’t want to hear about. It’s not unlike him to just disappear and appear again some hours later. It’s rather weird, sometimes. But more often than not, just amusing. 

Mark could befriend someone, it’s not that he doesn’t like people, but he’s sort of, well, very, baked and he doesn’t really want to be there. He just seems to drag himself into unpleasant situations on purpose, or something. He can’t really think. 

The bass of the music is deep and heavy, ringing in his head and spreading throughout his body. Needless to say the joint he smoked beforehand is hitting hard. His knees feel funny. Everything is funny. He makes his way to the bathroom, pushing the door open with his shoulder and to his delight, it’s empty. He pulls the door shut but doesn’t lock it.

Mark has a theory that everyone has their strange quirks and preferences, or fixations, that help them cope. Ordinary things, like spoons, or balconies. He finds comfort in bathtubs. There’s not much else to say about it than the cooling marble against his skin, the tight fit of laying in one, all crouched up. It’s not out of rationale that he climbs in the yellowish bathtub in the corner of the room beside the sink. It’s out of a need to get it all to make sense when nothing possibly ever could.

He’s high. Mark snickers to himself, trying to mold his back against the marble comfortably. The back of his head hits the wall, legs dangling over the edge. It doesn’t make any sense. He thinks of Donghyuck. He thinks about how anyone could just walk in and walk out and back in and ask him to leave, but he doesn’t finish that thought. It’s way more engaging to count the tiles on the wall.

Mark doesn’t know how long it takes but maybe it’s some murky twist of fate when the door opens and it’s Donghyuck who stumbles in. He’s holding a bong in his hand, a surprised look on his face when he notices Mark but it quickly morphs into delight.

”Mark!” Donghyuck exclaims. Mark doesn’t miss the way he locks the door behind him before he walks to him. He swallows, mouth suddenly very dry. 

”Scoot over,” Donghyuck tells him and Mark does as told, dragging his body to cross the tub vertically. He flops down beside him, sides touching. There’s enough space for either of them to slide further away to create a gap but neither do so. 

Mark watches Donghyuck fiddle with the bong, the quiet splash of water as he handles it clumsily. The sounds appear larger than life, the click of the lighter, the flame fluttering, the bubbling, Donghyuck’s exhale through his nose. It’s like a dance. Mark’s eyes are barely open as he studies the vanishing cloud of smoke. 

They just sit there in silence, bodies pressed together, the sounds of the party again distant and dreamlike. The minutes pass by and Mark has no idea how fast or slow. Occasionally Donghyuck passes over the bong and he just takes it without much thought. He’s too busy studying the side of his face. 

They seem to be closer than before. Mark has no idea who leaned closer and who did what. The bong is discarded somewhere on the floor. His own fingertips tracing the sharp line of Donghyuck’s jaw and feeling him shiver beneath his touch. It’s Donghyuck who puts his hand on him.

As if to say, _I want you this way,_ Donghyuck’s hand is heavy on the back of his head when he pulls him closer. Mark’s lips are parted as an invitation but he doesn’t still kiss him. And Mark is too, what, frightened, to shut his eyes. It’s the anticipation, the glimmer in the corner of Donghyuck’s eye that looks like mischief. 

He used to only do this when—and because— it was out of place, uncomfortable and shameful. Mark is beginning to realize that the rush isn’t driven by the idea but by _Donghyuck._ He’s all sorts of high. The bathtub is cramped and the marble is digging into his spine. Mark drunk on the sheer proximity of Donghyuck, his body heat hot and welcoming. It has his head spinning.

Donghyuck in his white t-shirt with his tan skin contrasting against it like a bruise. Mark wants to kiss him all over. Spaced out, he could map all the moles on his skin and make it all make sense. 

“Kiss me,” he mumbles instead, but Donghyuck’s lips are already only an inch from his. 

“Kiss me,” Mark repeats, slowly, precisely. 

And Donghyuck does. It’s so awfully intimate and tender that it almost makes him sick. It doesn’t. He doesn’t want to let himself think about it—it’s not love or affection, just lust and hormones making him feel like he’s going through puberty. It’s not—

Mark can’t dwell on it when Donghyuck’s hand slides down his neck to his side, slipping under his shirt to caress his skin. It’s the pot. The slide of his tongue. Nothing else, nothing else. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The thing is, Mark wants things he can’t stomach. 

Friends don’t act the way they do, but luckily, they aren’t even friends. Not really. And he cannot help but think—it’s that kinda sex a mother would never want for her son. Detached by nature, leaving him cold and empty. Going against the norms and rules, even when it comes to casual sex. They haven’t talked about it, not in any way that matters.

He stares at the contact on his screen. Donghyuck. His body is a little sore and eyes dry but it’s only 11am, he doesn’t have work today and the sun is casting its light through the kitchen window, so everything is fine. Mark feels like himself and he isn’t haunted by the constant need to check his hands. 

The text message is nothing special. Just a _wanna hang out?_ Mark isn’t sure if he wants to. Scrap that, he does want it but it’s more a question of whether he should. It all depends on what hanging out means, exactly. More groping in the backseats of his car? Kissing in a bathtub? Behind a gas station? What comes next, the aisles of a hypermarket? 

It’s like Mark wants it to be something else. It’s not that he doesn’t want to sleep with him, because yeah, of course, of course he does, but he wants more. Maybe he just always wants more and more and it will never be enough. The reason why it has worked, somewhat at least, arguably, is that they are not friends. It works because if it’s just, whatever, them being acquaintances who sometimes fuck, Mark doesn’t have to think about it.

He has gotten so far by not thinking about things. Mostly because it’s just easier. Mark knows it’s not healthy or productive but with a brain like his it’s sometimes the necessary evil. A way to keep afloat. 

Christ. The way his thoughts are spiraling is just proof of how inconvenient it is.

He takes a sip of his coffee. Jaehyun is off somewhere. Did he even quit his job? Mark isn’t sure. 

To ease his mind he decides to just ask Donghyuck to specify. Quickly, he types it out and sends the message. _Doing what?_

His response comes quick. _Let’s go for a ride._ It’s too much an innuendo. But Donghyuck sends another one to clear it up, meaning a car ride, promising not to play Bon Jovi or Wham! 

It’s embarrassing, the way Mark’s heart does a little flip and his mind jumps to _you remembered_. It shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t have to feel guilty and ashamed over life’s little joys. Donghyuck did say he was observant after all, it’s nothing else. Mark bites down on his lower lip and looks out of the window. The day is bright. He decides not to let his restless heart ruin it. 

So he accepts. Donghyuck will pick him up in a few hours. It’s not exactly clear where they will go so it doesn’t exactly cease his nervous thoughts but for a while, Mark feels calm. It’s fine. 

He goes through the motions. Finishes his coffee, stares out of the window a little more, looks at his hands, smokes, drinks water, gets dressed—without overthinking it, just a t-shirt, just normal jeans—the whole ordeal. Sends a text to Jaehyun asking where he is. Hums to himself a J.Cole tune. 

When Donghyuck texts him that he could be there in thirty minutes, the nervous flutters return and they systematically come and go until Mark’s standing outside the building, and Donghyuck pulls up. He tries his best to suppress them. Mark knows he tends to be rather awkward so being aware of that doesn’t really ease it. But it’s not completely hopeless either.

”Hey,” he greets him after pulling the door open and stepping in. Donghyuck looks nice but it’s not a surprise, he’s one of those people who just manage to always look put together and proper with no effort. Mark couldn’t even dream of that. More often than not, he’s wearing stained sweatpants, hair greasy from not being washed for days on end. 

“Afternoon,” Donghyuck grins cheerily. The music is playing on low volume, an artist he does not recognize. It’s weird to think that the only time before this he was in the car for something very different. Somehow it gives it more meaning, a more complete feel. 

Mark shoves his hands underneath his thighs to stop himself from fiddling awkwardly. Donghyuck is humming alongside to the song, tapping his fingers against the wheel. He seems so relaxed. Mark turns his gaze to the window just to see the familiar streets pass by.

“Where to?” Donghyuck asks. 

Mark raises his brows and gives him a look.

“I thought you had a plan.” 

“I don’t think I ever do,” Donghyuck laughs. 

“Well, I didn’t come up with one either so someone’s gotta improvise.”

“There’s always the beach. Gas stations. We could go eat,” he sounds carefree, like he doesn’t really care where they go. Beaches and restaurants. Date-like. But Mark knows that’s false hope. It takes him a second to realize that hope is the wrong feeling. 

“Whatever,” Mark shrugs his shoulders. 

“But?”

“But what?”

“You say whatever but there’s a but, isn’t there?” 

Donghyuck isn’t wrong. How did he sense that? Is he really so obvious, even with small things like that. It’s unsettling but Mark attempts not to let it show. He smiles shortly. 

“But beaches are probably crowded and eating out is expensive,” Mark explains.

“Ah,” Donghyuck nods. For a moment he’s quiet, as if he’s really weighing it. 

“Do you have any ideas, then?” He asks. He doesn’t seem upset but why would he? Mark doubts he cared in the first place. They take a turn and a ray of light falls in, hitting against Donghyuck’s right arm. Mark feels almost sick for admiring the way his skin looks against the black fabric of his shirt. All the moles. He could count them. The hair on his arms looking momentarily golden. 

Mark feels like he shouldn’t notice these things. It’s not right. Not in the sense of being morally wrong but he shouldn’t feel like a giggly school girl with a heavy heart. 

“Back to earth, Mark,” Donghyuck laughs softly, teasingly. 

“Geez, sorry,” he says and turns his face towards the road. “No, I don’t have anything. Let’s just do the beach, maybe we’ll fit somewhere. In a little corner.”

“Gotcha. Maybe I should pursue a career as a taxi driver.” 

“Yeah? Will you fuck them in the back too?”

Mark doesn’t know why he said that. It catches him off guard—it’s not like him, no, not really. Donghyuck is quiet for a second, obviously he didn’t expect it either. 

“I don’t know why I said that,” Mark voices his thoughts quickly but before he can embarrass himself further, Donghyuck bursts out laughing. The same lively noise he has almost grown accustomed to. Realizing the absurdity and inappropriate pettiness, Mark finds himself laughing too. It eases the nervousness of his heart. 

“Christ, you’re a funny guy, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck says after having calmed down. 

“You know my last name?” 

“I’m a stalker, remember?” 

Mark smiles. 

“Maybe you really are one and this is your master plan of kidnapping me.” 

They pause at a light. Donghyuck turns his upper body to face him better. A mischievous grin flatters his mouth. Mark wants to both shuffle further back in his seat and lean closer. 

“It’d work.” 

“No, I’d break the window.” 

“I don’t think you’d be able to.” 

“Is that a challenge?” 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and turns back to the steering wheel before the light turns green. 

“No, please don’t mess up my ride. I won’t kidnap you, in return.” 

“Sounds like a deal.” Mark pushes his hair back but it flops back down immediately after he removes his hand. It’s numb and warm from being underneath his legs so this time he just lets the both of them rest in his lap. 

The jokes are a little morbid but it’s somehow a relief to know that he can joke about odd things without it becoming uncomfortable. Not all people are like that. It doesn’t surprise him, either, that Donghyuck plays along smoothly. 

The drive is over relatively quickly. It’s a surprise for him to realize that the feeling in his stomach resembles disappointment. He would’ve liked for it to last longer. It’s a buzzling realization and he tries his best to brush it off. They pull up to the parking lot, scattered with cars but not too many.

The beach isn’t as crowded as Mark expected. Sure, there are people there but less than he imagined. They manage to park the car to a spot close by, near enough for him to see the beige sand stretch out and fade into the reeds. 

Mark feels like asking _what now_ after they’ve stepped out of the car. It’s windier there than by his house and it’s getting caught up in his hair. He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns to Donghyuck who has circled the car around. 

”Long walks on the beach, how romantic,” Donghyuck says in a joking tone. Mark doesn’t let himself think about it so he just laughs. There isn’t any defined plan, nothing to look forward, just the sand and the rippling waves. It’s going to get colder soon, the autumn is making its way to town and Mark should just enjoy the last few weeks, or even days, of warmth. 

“Is that on your Tinder profile?” Mark asks as they walk down the steps connecting the asphalt and the sand. 

“Who do you think I am?” Donghyuck scoffs.

”Exactly the type to have that in his profile.”

”You are quite a nightmare,” Donghyuck shakes his head, ”very bold to assume I’d use Tinder over Grindr.”

Mark laughs abruptly. 

”You’re making it worse,” he says, ”getting trashier with every single word. Next you’re going to say Katy Perry is your favourite artist.”

”Good lord, no, don’t go there,” Donghyuck stresses his point by kicking the sand, whatever that means. The wind is messing with his hair. It looks—Mark denies himself the joy of describing it.

”What kinda music do you like, anyway?” He’s just curious. Maybe he shouldn’t feel like having to justify his every little action. 

“Most things, really. Pop, mostly,” Donghyuck says. 

“Even country?”

“Yeah, even country. John Denver goes hard.”

“Isn’t he more pop than country?” 

“What, are you some sorta country music purist?” 

Mark laughs and shakes his head. First Wham, then Bon Jovi, now this. 

“No, God.”

“What, then?”

“Can’t say I’m a purist about any genre.” 

“Disappointing. You seemed the type.” 

Mark furrows his brows but doesn’t ask him to elaborate. 

“But I’m pretty into hip hop and r&b,” Mark tells him, even though Donghyuck didn’t ask. 

“Ah, why am I not surprised? You do have that straight fuckboy feel,” Donghyuck shakes his head, as if in disappointment. He lets out a baffled laugh.

“Really? Straight?” 

Donghyuck stops and looks at him with a deadpan face. 

“And that’s the part you’re concerned about. I can’t believe you. Yes, I know for a fact you ain’t that, babe,” he says and places his hand on Mark’s cheek but it’s gone after a second. His heart manages to stop for a second anyway, a quick jolt of _something._

He laughs nervously. It’s so obviously a joke and yet he can’t help but get all jittery about it. 

“Calling me babe already? Take me on a date first,” he tries to joke it off. The look on Donghyuck’s face is curious, eyes squinted the slightest bit. Mark bites his inner cheek to keep his composure. 

“I think we are way past that point,” he says. 

“Are we?” Mark doesn’t know why he asks that but it just spills out. He watches Donghyuck direct his steps closer to the shoreline, pulling off his shoes and socks. 

“Definitely,” Donghyuck says and walks into the water, giving Mark a look over his shoulder, ”you coming?” 

There’s no reason for him to object so Mark takes off his sneakers and socks and rolls up his jeans. The shivers at the first splash of water against his skin but after that it’s easier to walk in. Donghyuck is in the deeper waters, the shorts he’s wearing give him the chance to do so. Mark couldn’t, not if he wanted his pants to keep dry. 

“Pussy,” he hears Donghyuck snicker. Mark scoffs. 

“Some of us didn’t prepare for this by wearing booty shorts, man,” he calls back. 

“You’ve seen nothing yet,” Donghyuck walks towards him as he says this, sounding somewhat menacing. 

“I’ve got my phone in my pocket,” Mark warns him. 

“What do you think I was gonna do?” 

“Isn’t that obvious?”

Mark watches him dip his hands in the water and make them into a cup. There’s enough time for Mark to step back and escape but he lets Donghyuck indulge him. His hands approach his face, the water spilling overboard. 

“Wait—”, Mark manages to say but still, doesn’t even attempt to flinch back. He closes his eyes a second before the water his his face and hair. He opens his eyes only when Donghyuck’s palms press against his cheeks, almost as if pushing the salt water into his pores. A drop falls down the tip of his nose and hits his lips. It’s all too much, with Donghyuck looking at him like that. 

“I’m waiting,” Donghyuck says, a slight smile on his lips. It’s almost infuriating. His palm pushes Mark’s damp hair back. He glances to the shore but no one seems to be paying attention to them. 

It’s a decision of quick thinking, or maybe of no thinking at all, but Mark leans closer and presses his lips against Donghyuck’s. It’s quick and feather-like. 

“Waiting for what?” Mark asks, hands useless against his sides. Donghyuck rubs his thumb against his temple gently before withdrawing his hands. He wishes they would’ve stayed there a little longer. 

“Whatever you want me to wait for,” Donghyuck says and grins. Why would he say something like that? But then, why would Mark kiss him like that. Their dynamic is confusing. Mark doesn’t know anything anymore. 

So Mark crouches down and cups water in his hands and throws it at Donghyuck. He shrieks and it’s enough of a warning sign for Mark to stumble backwards, trying to mind his step so he doesn’t fall. 

It must look a little odd, two grown—although this is debatable—men playing in the ocean like that. But Mark tries not to think about that or anything else but this and now. Donghyuck shouts something that sounds like him calling Mark a brat and that he’s asking for it, but he isn’t sure because at that point he’s almost running away from him.

It’s hard to take a break for breathing when he’s laughing this much. The hems of his jeans are wet anyway from the water splashing around so it isn’t that much a loss when Mark stumbles and trips on his knees. The water was only to his ankles so his phone is safe, which is his first concern anyway. 

Donghyuck catches up to him quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders from behind and shaking him. 

“You’re terrible!” He exclaims, squatting behind him and wrapping his arms around Mark’s torso. They both are laughing uncontrollably, bodies trembling against each other. Mark wraps his fingers around Donghyuck’s wrists to keep him there. 

So they just stay there until they have both calmed down and Mark loosens his grip. When Donghyuck stands up he immediately misses the warmth against his back. The wet fabric is uncomfortable on his knees and it keeps dripping water when he stands up. 

Without exchanging words, it seems that the both have the same idea as they return to the shore with wobbly steps. The sand sticks to his wet feet and instead of putting his shoes back on he just grabs them to carry around. 

They stroll around the beach for some time, the wet fabric cooling down and becoming stiff. Donghyuck tells him about a tattoo he wants to get—an angel on his thigh—and Mark tells him in turn about the ugly stick and poke he has on his chest—a small hand flipping someone off, although it resembles more something other phallic. He asks to see it and pokes Mark in the side. 

Safe to say, he doesn’t show it to him.

It’s just genuinely really fun to hang around him. They talk about stupid, useless things and at times Mark feels like he hasn't laughed this much in a long time. And he laughs easily. It fills him to the bring with hope for something else.

After they leave the beach and got their shoes back on, they head straight to the car and Mark just wants to kiss him all over, press him against the red paint of the ride and devour him. But he doesn’t do it. 

At home, he regrets it and closes his eyes just to hear the water splashing around uncontrollably.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Donghyuck asks him to hang out with him again, this time at 11pm on a Tuesday, Mark can’t help but wonder what is it that they are doing. Are they friends now? Friends who take walks and go for rides and flirt and and kiss stare at each other maybe a little too long for it to be considered appropriate. Friends who now sit on the red bench of a lonely park, fingers tangled around cans of beer. 

Maybe it would’ve been wiser to turn him down and say _sorry, I’d like to but I had a long day at work, now I just want to sleep._ What matters is that he didn’t do that and the sun is about to set and the way the sky has already been painted in the tones of yellow and orange is calming but makes Mark’s skin itch when the last rays of the evening sun land on Donghyuck’s skin. He’s wearing a sturdy leather jacket on top of a tank top. It makes Mark feel some sorta strange way. 

“I like your jacket,” Mark says as if to conceal whatever he’s feeling under a compliment, an admiration that’s purely artificial and doesn’t scream desperation. He feels pathetic, restless, uneasy and sleepwalking while awake. Thoughts like this scare him. The need to stay up and awake and present. 

Donghyuck thanks him with a cheery grin. Why is he always so—bright? The summer is supposed to be ending. Mark shouldn’t be clinging on. 

“I got it from my dad,” Donghyuck tells him, “it used to be his. Sentimental, right?” 

Mark wants to ask him _why are you telling me this_ and _what are we doing?_

Instead he just nods. 

“I think that’s cool. Is he happy about it?” What a question. 

“I wouldn’t know. He’s dead.” 

It’s that sort of a icy grip around his gut that makes Mark almost choke on the beer he’s sipping. A rush of cold panic of having done something terrible. But Donghyuck manages to soothe his nerves, somehow, by giving him a smile that’s so awfully gentle and warm. 

Why is he so warm? 

“Don’t look so shocked,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. His demeanor is calmer than usual, somehow more let-down, his eyes dark and looking at Mark with intensity so strange Mark can’t explain. 

“I—I’m sorry?” It comes out as more of a question. He has never been good at this. 

“Nah, don’t be. It’s been a while. Although you never really recover from something like that. I guess,” it’s a bit all over the place even with Donghyuck seeming so put together and confident. How does he do it, Mark really doesn’t know. He’s awfully perplexing, what a peculiar guy. It’s the wrong setting, the wrong time, the wrong everything to be in awe over him. 

Mark closes his fingers tighter around the can of beer, trying to memorize the damp coolness of the aluminum against his fingertips. 

“I bet,” Mark chokes out awkwardly. Donghyuck sighs and reachers over to squeeze his shoulder. it should be the other way around, Mark’s palm against the old leather and giving comfort. 

“Don’t make it awkward, my guy, it’s fine,” he tells him. It doesn’t really convince him. 

“I’ve never really lost anyone like that,” Mark blurts out. It’s not the right thing to say. Donghyuck looks at him with curious eyes.

“But you’ve lost people to other things.” It’s more of a statement than an assumption. Mark didn’t really mean it like that but he can’t deny it either. He’s quiet for a moment. If he was braver, maybe he’d tell Donghyuck about how his mom is in and out of rehab and he has this crawling fear that he’s ruining himself by indulging himself into similar things. Maybe he’d tell him that sometimes Mark is convinced he has lost himself. 

But that’s too vulnerable. He’s not the type to share that. 

“Everybody has,” he shrugs his shoulders. 

“So?” 

Mark furrows his brows.

“What?”

“So what about it? Just because everybody has lost something or someone doesn’t change shit,” Donghyuck says and he actually comes off as a little heated. “Don’t bring yourself down like that, Mark Lee.” 

“You really love saying my name, huh,” Mark says instead of commenting on the actual subject at hand. It’s too uncomfortable. Too real. Mark doesn’t really know what game Donghyuck is trying to play or if there ever was a game at all. He really just doesn’t know. 

Donghyuck laughs. It’s a relief. 

“Yeah, and you like hearing me say it,” Donghyuck says confidently. Mark can’t really argue but it’s not like he would ever admit to that. 

“In your dreams.”

“Maybe so, too.” 

Mark glances at him. It sounds awfully lot like flirting. He is _itching_ to touch him. To be just a little bit closer. Instead he just crouches down to put the can by his feet on the ground. Mark can’t believe Donghyuck just told him about his dead dad and all he can think about is kissing him. It’s disgusting, truthfully. He wants to say something, to get rid of the nasty feeling, but what is there to say? Donghyuck has probably heard it all.

“Well,” Mark says but he doesn’t find the words to finish the sentence with. It hangs in the air. Donghyuck smiles shortly and shakes his head. 

“For real, it’s fine. Don’t be weird about it, if you don’t have anything to say, don’t say anything,” Donghyuck says, “silence isn’t all bad, you know.” 

Mark swallows and nods. He should know this by now. 

”Right. I just don’t want you to feel that I’m, I don’t know, that I’m not sorry. I am. Even though you said it’s fine,” Mark rambles, he should just shut his mouth and not make it worse. Luckily Donghyuck seems to get it and doesn’t come off as offended. 

“Mark,” he says his name again, and Mark quite despises how much he likes hearing it, “stop it.” 

Mark laughs nervously, looking down at his lap. He can feel Donghyuck’s eyes on him. 

“Fine, I’m stopping it,” he mutters. 

“Good!” 

The silence that follows isn’t awkward but it isn’t exactly comfortable either but Mark thinks it might be just him. Donghyuck seems to be at ease. But it’s not like he could tell whether it’s authentic or not. Mark hasn’t known him long enough to have learnt the personal quirks and habits that give out lies. 

Donghyuck puts his palm out. Mark just looks at it.

“You can do this to comfort me,” he says and takes Mark’s hand in his. He doesn’t really know what to say, now even less. He squeezes Donghyuck’s hand, and oh, how warm it is. It’s a little funny, the whole thing, Mark can’t help but smile. 

“Now, are you comforted?” He asks with a small chuckle.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me. And yes, but keep going,” Donghyuck says but his point is flattened by how he’s starting to laugh too. Mark just feels so damn warm inside, even though it’s late and he’s tired, even though he should probably go before his feelings get hurt. He glances at the can by his feet but doesn’t bother to pick it up. 

Mark catches Donghyuck looking at the poster stuck to a lamppost across the path. It’s an advert for the circus that’s coming to town. 

“When I was a kid I was obsessed with the idea of becoming a tightrope walker,” Donghyuck says suddenly, “I have no idea why. I’ve never done it.”

“Really? Why didn’t you?” Mark asks. “I mean, like take it as a hobby.”

Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders. 

“Another thing I don’t know. Maybe I found other thrilling interests or maybe I never wanted it that much but just remember it like that.” 

“Huh…” Mark mutters, “don’t wanna do it anymore?” 

Donghyuck laughs and shakes his head.

“Real life hit hard. I don’t imagine there’s a college for tightrope walkers and I can’t let my mom down by not going.”

“Yeah, I get that. What was it that you studied, again?” 

Donghyuck visibly hesitates. Mark feels like tightening his hold.

“Law,” he says. Mark lifts his brows in surprise.

“That’s very different from tightrope walking,” he says and luckily Donghyuck laughs. 

“You bet. Probably isn’t a surprise that I despise it.”

Donghyuck doesn’t seem upset but Mark doubts the handholding was really about comfort, anyway. 

“And now it’s too late to change path?” It sounds like a question even though it’s not. 

“Yup,” Donghyuck nods, “you know the drill. Too much money, pride and time wasted to it.” 

It’s easy not to take it so seriously when Donghyuck’s tone is light and casual, but Mark can’t really imagine how heavy a burden it must be. It’s not really fair. Donghyuck, who is so lively, bold and peculiar, being stuck at a career path he doesn’t want. He could ask him what he really wanted to do with his life but it would feel more like rubbing salt into open wounds. 

“I just never enrolled,” Mark says instead, “I have no idea what I want to do.” 

It’s difficult for him to be open and vulnerable and admit to things that bring him such shame. Maybe it’s the night that brings it out. Donghyuck rubs his thumb across his knuckles and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel like pity. 

“I think you will figure it out,” Donghyuck says. It’s not an _I hope you do_ but a _you will._ It feels like it matters, the difference. 

The future seems to be a sore subject for most people but somehow this feels like comfort, solidarity, despite their situations being so very different.

“Maybe in another life I’ll be a tightrope walker and you’ll be, well, whatever you wanted to be as a kid,” Donghyuck says. It’s really fucking corny. Mark snorts.

“I wanted to be a cop but then I grew up and realized all of them are bastards.”

“Preach it, baby,” Donghyuck says. There he goes again, dropping petnames to make a point or a joke, and there’s Mark’s heart skipping a beat. He hopes Donghyuck doesn’t notice his fastened pulse. 

“Right,” he mumbles. There’s something juvenile about the way they holding hands, something innocent that makes it both feel wrong and right that the same time. 

Mark bends down to grab his beer and therefore pulls Donghyuck down with him. He doesn’t complain or let go of his hand.

 _What are we doing,_ Mark is still itching to ask. The beer is lukewarm and not that good. It wasn’t great in the first place.

”We should do this more often,” Donghyuck says.

”What do you mean?”

”Chill.”

It’s such a vague answer.

”You consider this chilling?” Mark asks but what he wants to know is if Donghyuck does this sort of a thing with others. It wouldn’t really be that surprising. 

”Maybe I do,” Donghyuck says, again with the self-importance and riddle-like answers. 

It’s too much. Mark almost wants to pull his hand back and shove it in his pocket.

”Why must you always be so,” he really doesn’t know which word to use, ”perplexing? Vague. You confuse me.” 

It must be the tone of his voice, a little more honest, a tad bit too frustrated, that makes Donghyuck glance at him with eyes wider than the last look. He has to know that Mark has realized his habit of beating around the bush. 

It somehow still catches him off guard how young Donghyuck suddenly seems. Almost like a scolded child, told off for doing something horrible. It’s his first instinct to apologize but Donghyuck speaks up before he has a chance to.

”I said it’s fine, the thing about my dad. I lied. It’s not fine. I can’t stand how people never know what to say and that I have to act like it’s okay, like it doesn’t bother me. I think he might’ve killed himself but my mom won’t talk about it so I doubt I’ll ever know for sure. But it’s even worse when I explain it like this, no one knows what to say after it either. So, you know, chill. Maybe I want to sit here with you, Mark Lee, and just be without having to explain it.”

Mark expects him to finish the sentence with a _you happy now?_ but it never comes, and Donghyuck’s eyes are as serious as ever. His voice is calmer than usual, not that rampant nasal squeak.

So Mark just blinks, focuses on how his palm is a bit sweaty against his, and looks at him. It’s a lot to take in and it would be a filthy, ugly lie to say that he had any answers.

”Maybe I want to sit here with you, too,” Mark says, ”and it’s true. I still don’t know what to say.” 

”Let’s just be, then,” Donghyuck says. He doesn’t sound upset but _what does he know._

So Mark leans against the bench and looks at the sky. It’s properly dark blue now. 

If Donghyuck doesn’t want to explain whatever they are doing, it sounds awfully like him not wanting to specify it or give it labels. Mark has no idea what he wants himself. But he would never want to dump his own shit on him, not when he obviously isn’t doing all too peachy either.

He needs to figure it out. For now, he can just be, but later. Later… later.

So they just sit there, in silence, until Donghyuck tells him that he has to go, he has an earlier shift tomorrow. Mark isn’t hurt. His hand feels funny and damp when they let go. He never finished his beer either and leaves the half-empty can on the bench. He can save the planet some other day.

He isn’t much of a hugger but he still hugs Donghyuck goodbye. They have done worse things. Of course, there is the itch again. To both kiss him and say something that would matter. But neither come easy so Mark just squeezes his arm and hopes it conveys something. It’s wishful thinking. 

“I’ll see you,” Mark says, “around.” 

It’s a weak callback but he hopes Donghyuck picks up on it. Judging by the smile and a roll of his eyes he does. 

“Yeah, me too,” Donghyuck says while walking backwards, feet aligned in a thin line—like treading a tightrope. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s like sleepwalking. At a night shift he looks at the white tiles of the kitchen and they don’t appear quite right. He can move his body just like he used to but something feels off. It’s the little things. In good, in bad. 

Like when he walks to the bus stop after clocking out, and the sun is rising. The moment of serenity and peace is enough to make it worth it. It’s when Mark thinks of Donghyuck, too, both in ease and pain. How, like the rising sun, there’s something bright and fleeting about him, and how, like everything recently, he’s just a little bit wrong. 

Mark doesn’t know what to make of it, it’s all way too strange, but it feels like—love. 

It’s too early for that, of course. But it’s the only idea that makes any sense, even though it’s embarrassing and frightening.

But it’s also him going to bed and waking up when it’s already dark. The days are shorter. The weeks pass by. He can no longer walk outside in just a t-shirt but has to cover up with a hoodie or a coat. He sees Donghyuck when their schedules match, which isn’t too often even though his break from school seems to still be going strong. It’s cynical and mean to think like this but at times Mark wonders if Donghyuck just going to drop out. The mind can only endure so much blandness. 

And there’s the rising anxiety underneath Mark’s sternum, wild and restless, and the fear becomes more unbearable a day by day. 

He’s sitting beside Jaehyun on the couch, a mustard yellow monstrosity shoved in the corner of the kitchen slash living room situation. 

“I don’t want the winter to come,” Mark chokes out. Jaehyun places his warm palm on his back. 

“Me neither,” he says quietly. It’s so fragile, dripping of care. “But we’ll be here either way.”

Mark feels like crying. How dare he say things like that—he doesn’t want to be there, any way, either way, at all. It’s always fine until it isn’t and it’s been raining the whole week, and not the fresh welcomed summer rain, but one of autumn. He takes in a shuddering breath. 

“How?” It’s a stupid question, an empty one. Mark knows the answer.

“We just do,” Jaehyun says. Because he knows it too. 

The worst part is that Mark really, really likes Donghyuck. 

But he can feel it in his bones—he’s getting worse again. It’s harder to wake up. The fatigue is heavy and burdening, making the hours drag. Smoking more than usual, trying to make the minutes stop by smoking joints in strangers’ bathrooms. Showing up to work disoriented and confused, hands looking a lot like someone else’s.

It feels a lot like Donghyuck is the right person but at the wrong time. 

At least it doesn’t feel wrong to bury his face against Jaehyun’s shoulder. The amount of shame he carries is ridiculous and it’s made worse by how embarrassed his own self-pity makes him. It’s just bagfuls of pain he drags around. 

”I’m sorry that I smell,” Mark mumbles because he doesn’t know what else to say. It’s true, too, he has had three days straight off of work and he hasn’t showered at all. When he doesn’t have to leave the house, he just can’t bring himself to do it.

”You don’t,” Jaehyun comforts him. Mark shakes his head.

”No, I do.”

”I can’t smell it.”

”Maybe it’s just you, then.”

Jaehyun laughs softly at his words and it makes the corners of Mark’s mouth tug upwards, too. In hurt, there’s laughter and in despair, there’s hope—or whatever someone greater would say. Instead of wisdom, Mark just sniffs Jaehyun’s shirt.

”Pretty sure it’s you,” he mutters but doesn’t retreat.

”Aight, fuck you then,” Jaehyun laughs and attempts to push him off, but Mark clings on. He clings on and Jaehyun lets him. 

“I really like him,” Mark suddenly says. 

“Donghyuck?” Jaehyun asks. It feels weird to hear him say his name. It shouldn’t, because he has heard Jaemin say it too—it’s not his own private word. 

“Yeah.”

“Does he know?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders even with limited movement. 

“He has to. I just don’t know what he wants. One moment I think he repricroates, the other I’m sure he doesn’t.”

“Have you considered, I don’t know, maybe talking to him?” There’s humour in Jaehyun’s voice but his idea is specifically the one he wanted to avoid, and probably would avoid until the end of the earth if the situation was a little different. Mark doesn’t say anything and Jaehyun understands his silence.

“You gotta bite the bullet. Nothing’s going to change otherwise,” he says. It’s not like Jaehyun is wrong but the thought is just terrifying. Mark doesn’t want to lose him and if the answer isn’t what he wants to hear, it’s what’s going to happen. 

”I know,” he mumbles, ”I just…” 

Jaehyun waits patiently for him to finish the sentence.

”It could turn out so wrong, either way. I tell him and he says no—I lose him. I tell him and he says yes—what am I going to do?” Mark asks. He doesn’t have to specify what he means, Jaehyun should know, and of course, he does. 

Mark has a hard time handling himself, how the Hell could he handle someone else too? Not to even go there about could Donghyuck handle him.

”Do I look like someone who knows anything about this kinda shit?” Jaehyun asks. Mark snorts and decides it’s the time to lift his head.

”Absolutely not,” he says.

”Right. I think you should talk to him. If the outcome isn’t perfect either way, you have less to lose,” Jaehyun says and gives him another reassuring squeeze. His logic may be a little cynical but at least it rings true.

”I’ll figure it out,” Mark says, as if to finish his sentence. It doesn’t come out too confidently but Jaehyun still looks proud.

”Fuck yeah, cheers to that,” he exclaims. 

It manages to make him feel better. It doesn’t remove the ache but eases it, cools it down. They sit there for a while until Mark decides he’s well enough to cook macaroni.

Later in the evening, he jerks off. Not because of desire but because he feels like he has to. Afterwards, cold and sweaty, he finally decides to take a shower. Maybe it’s not much but it’s something. 

It’s the little things, Mark repeats the mantra to himself and tries not to get caught up in his head. He needs to feel normal and partly, he manages to. So he shows up at work, even though it’s dark outside and he’d rather just sleep. But he does it anyway. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sometimes Mark tortures himself by rereading the note stuck on his fridge. Written in his grandma’s shaky cursive, telling him how the mittens she knitted weren’t very good but she sent them to him anyway. Now she’s in the hospital, sick and fading. He doesn’t know why it hurts so much. To see the words molding together to form an incoherent message. An I love you. 

Now he just stares at the note without reading it. It doesn’t tell him anything he doesn't know and it doesn’t make him feel any different, but for some reason he just keeps his gaze fixated. It’s seven pm on a Friday. Donghyuck had texted him if he could come over. At this point it’s not really a question, of course Mark said yes, and he knows what Donghyuck meant by that. It’s a new terrority, Mark’s own space, and he’s going to let him in, no matter what happens. 

So Mark sends Jaehyun a text that he should find somewhere else to sleep. So he cancels his plans with Jaemin. So Donghyuck comes over. So Mark promises himself that he’ll tell him in the morning. 

His heart is again a nervous mess when the doorbell rings and he opens it. Donghyuck looks the same as always, a smile sporting his lips. 

“Hey,” Mark greets him and lets him in. 

“Hey to you too,” Donghyuck says. After the door is shut, he hugs Mark, a friendly gesture but he can’t not read into it. 

Things escalate rather quickly. First they sit down on the couch and Mark tries to be a good host and asks if Donghyuck wants anything to drink, even though he doesn’t have much to offer, and Donghyuck declines. Then they are closer, thighs touching, and then there’s a warm touch against his throat.

Donghyuck’s hand on his neck is enough for him to take the hint and lean closer. Mark corners him against the handrest of the couch but it’s still Donghyuck who initiates the kiss. It’s gentler than he expected but that doesn’t last long. It’s as if Mark’s thirsty and craving for more, quickly and with force. 

“Easy there, tiger,” Donghyuck chuckles against his lips and Mark doesn’t have any shame left to feel embarrassed.

“Shut up,” Mark tells him and kisses him again, and again, and again. Donghyuck’s hand in his hair, brushing his fingers through and tugging slightly, as if to test the waters. He doesn’t flinch or tell him to stop, too focused on other things. It doesn’t take long for him to recognize the situation, both what’s going to happen and where, so he pulls away. 

“Let’s go to my room,” Mark tells him. Donghyuck nods and gets up, lacing his fingers with Mark’s. It’s way too sweet for him to handle but he tries not to think about it. It’s not the right time for overthinking, no. Mark leads the way, letting go of his hand to pull of his shirt, and Donghyuck does the same, with a swift motion. 

“Your tattoo really looks like a dick,” Donghyuck comments and steps closer, grabbing him by the waist. Mark gives him a quick kiss before saying anything. 

“Told you so.”

It’s Donghyuck who pushes him on the bed and crawls on top of him. It’s messy and needy, the way they both are acting, Donghyuck’s fingers trying to clumsily open the button of Mark’s jeans and pull the zipper down. He succeeds after a few tries, tugging down his pants and throwing them on the floor. Mark’s not the only one who's desperate, it seems. 

It doesn’t take long before they both have gotten rid of their clothes, chests flushed against one another. Mark used to hate sex when it felt meaningful. He could tell himself it doesn’t mean anything but it does and he’s, frankly, tired of lying. 

Mark gasps softly when Donghyuck kisses his neck and proceeds to litter kisses across it, making his way down. He bites the soft skin above Mark’s hip, making him give a little kick.

“Please,” Mark gasps out before he can stop himself. Donghyuck spits on his hand and wraps his fingers around his dick. He has no idea how he can be this sensitive and all over the place already but he can’t help the way his hips buck up into Donghyuck’s fist. 

Mark wants to hold him but thoughts about it come to a sudden stop when he feels Donghyuck’s mouth around his tip.

”Shit,” Mark curses, and Donghyuck has the audacity to giggle. 

He gets lost in the moment, in his touch, arching his back and grasping the sheets. It’s so very different like this, somehow, somehow. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Mark wakes up, the sun is shining through the window and hitting the white bedsheets, and the side of Donghyuck’s face. He looks at him sleepily, trying not to stare but it’s sort of had to, when he looks so peaceful and calm. Mark wishes the world would stop just for a second. 

But of course it doesn’t stop, so he rolls over and gets up. Even though no one can see him, it’s still awkward to tread across the room butt-naked. He feels dirty and a little sore. Mark makes his way to the shower, spotting a bite mark on his hip and it almost makes his blush. Yeah, what the fuck. It gets him flustered to recall last night. It’s unlike him as Mark isn’t someone who’s uncomfortable about sexuality. It’s just Donghyuck and how things feel with him. 

After he’s clean and dressed in a fresh set of clothes, Mark makes himself coffee and goes out to the balcony to smoke. He doesn’t have it in his heart to wake Donghyuck up. 

It takes maybe thirty minutes for Mark to hear the rustling of the bedsheets and for Donghyuck to appear out of his room wearing only underwear. It’s again an exercise of his self control not to stare. 

“Morning,” Donghyuck says, accompanied with a yawn.

“Morning. Shower?” 

He nods so Mark gets up and gets him a towel and a change of clothes. The idea is pleasant, to see Donghyuck in his clothes. 

Mark isn’t sure, but with the shower running he thinks he can hear Donghyuck humming something. It all feels so domestic. He makes another batch of coffee to distract himself but it sort of just adds to the illusion. 

It gets worse when Donghyuck comes out of the bathroom, hair all damp and dripping over Mark’s red t-shirt he’s wearing. He kind of wants to die right now, right there. He sits opposite him in the kitchen table. Mark learns that Donghyuck drinks his coffee with three spoonfuls of sugar and a shit ton of milk. 

Mark thinks about the promise he made to himself. It’s hard to bring something like that up without it sounding like an introduction at a group therapy session. _Hey, my name’s Mark, I’m 22 and mentally ill, a fun fact about me is that I like watermelon and strange boys._ He fiddles with his fingers. 

“We should talk,” Mark says. 

“Oh, no,” Donghyuck says jokingly, “now I’m scared.”

“No, no, it’s not about you,” he hurries too explain, “I just gotta tell you something.” 

Donghyuck nods. He doesn’t appear too serious but he doesn’t try to clown him either. Mark swallows, picking up his cup of coffee and taking a sip instead of speaking.

“Uh, I have no idea how to put this,” Mark laughs nervously, “but I just think you should know because, well, I obviously like you. A lot. I don’t really know what it is that we have been doing.” 

He glances at Donghyuck, having kept his stare on the kitchen table otherwise. His face is neutral, not giving out much. 

“So if you want to call it off, whatever this is, because I’ve got feelings for you, I get it. But if you don’t, you need to know that I’m, uh, sick. Mentally. I have a type of depression, geez, this is so awkward. Yeah, yeah, seasonal affective disorder, also known as sad, which is fucking ironic. But technically it’s just a seasonal pattern within a depressive disorder because it’s always there, it just get significantly worse during winter. That’s that. I’m rambling. But the point is that it sucks, for me and people around me, so take this as, I don’t know, a warning.”

Mark stares at the table, petrified to raise his stare. It’s not really out of shame for the disorder but because the situation is so painfully uncomfortable for him. It makes him grimace. 

”Okay,” Donghyuck says. _Okay?_

Mark still doesn’t look up. 

”Kind of hypocritical of me to get upset over people not knowing what to say,” he mutters. Mark laughs shortly, albeit still awkward, and nods slowly.

They sit in silence. Mark wants to do or say something so they can just move on. It’s making blood rise up to his face, the embarrassed flush.

”Oh yeah,” Donghyuck then breaks the silence, ”yeah, I like you too, just for the record.” 

It probably shouldn’t be a surprise but it still comes as one. He looks at Donghyuck and nothing about his expression says _joke._

“You do?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Donghyuck says. Was it? Mark doesn’t try to argue but he isn’t too convinced, Donghyuck isn’t exactly an open book. 

“Anyway, I don’t really care. That sounds wrong. It doesn’t really change anything, your disorder, or like, I know it complicates things, you aren’t the first one in my close circle to struggle with something like this. I’m familiar with it,” he keeps on talking. “I wanna keep you around, whatever your baggage is. I’ve got my own too.” 

There’s comfort in his words, a sense of solidarity. 

“Cool,” Mark says bluntly, “thanks, I guess.”

Donghyuck laughs and he wants to grab him and hold him close.

“What does this mean, though? For, you know, us,” Mark asks with a little hesitation. Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t know, my man,” he says, “do you?”

Mark shakes his head.

“No fucking idea.” 

“Good that we are on the same page, then,” Donghyuck says with a smile. It all feels like a dream, but not in the way when Mark can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t this, even though it ended up being very anticlimactic. 

“I can’t promise you much, you gotta know that. I can only try,” Mark says suddenly. It wasn’t supposed to be so cheesy, or dramatic, but it came out wrong. 

The sun is bright and lighting up the kitchen. 

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for a while?” Donghyuck asks. Mark stops to think. He does have a point. 

“Huh,” he says dumbly, “I guess you’re right.” 

Donghyuck grins. 

“I know.”

  
  


Donghyuck helps him to change the sheets and for a while they just lie on top of the clean ones and stare at the roof. Mark knows that dating or boyfriends aren’t terms that they agreed upon but there’s a feeling in his chest telling him that it’s not important. A part of him knows that Donghyuck wants to be there and that’s what matters. 

The fear is still there, knocking in the back of his head but Mark tells it to fuck off. 

They lounge around, eat instant noodles and talk shit. It’s not particularly exciting but he doesn’t want him to leave yet. And Donghyuck is a big boy, he’ll let him know when he wishes to go. 

Mark is turning on Netflix on his laptop, half-sitting half-laying on his bed with Donghyuck next to him, when he hears the front door open. Donghyuck looks at him with a question on his face. 

“My roommate,” Mark tells him, “Jaehyun.” 

He nods slowly, Mark did mention him earlier. The door to his room is open and he really doesn’t feel like getting up and closing it. As expected, Jaehyun peeks his head in and his face goes from neutral to surprised. It almost makes him laugh.

“Uh, hi guys,” Jaehyun says, obviously taken back by the view of their cozy position. 

“Hey,” Mark tries to say but it’s just morphing into laughter, “this is Donghyuck.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t seem bothered by Jaehyun and lifts his arm to give him a lazy wave.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing much, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Jaheyun says before glancing at Mark. It’s almost as if his face is saying _I thought he’d be gone by now_ or something of this sort. Mark shrugs his shoulder. 

Donghyuck shakes his head.

“‘ts cool,” he grins and leans his head against Mark’s shoulder, maybe to take a better look at the screen, but it makes his heart skip a beat. 

“Aight, I’ll leave you two, uh, alone,” Jaehyun says and closer the door. It’s ridiculously funny how awkward he is and Mark can’t stop laughing. Apparently it’s contagious because soon Donghyuck joins him. 

Everything is still fucking strange but at least it feels right. For now, at least. Mark is fine with that.

  
  
  
  


  
  
  


The light in his bathroom is yellow and flickering uncontrollably. 

Mark’s t-shirt is soaked in cold sweat, dragging against the porcelain of the bathtub like a ghost. His breath is coming out in staggered, uneven gasps, a weak attempt to calm himself down. It doesn’t even feel real, tangible, the bathroom air simultaneously uneventful and a chokehold. 

So Mark made it through the winter, but it doesn’t feel like much of an accomplishment when his palms are littered in small crescents from clenching his hands into tight fists in attempt to make it stop. Make everything, especially the world, stop. But it doesn’t. 

He hears a knock from the door. 

The snow has melted and birds have returned. Mark coughs and sniffles. He presses his forehead against the tiles, exhausted to his bones—it wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

“Come in,” he calls out but it sounds even more pathetic than he expected. It’s the terrible shame.

Donghyuck opens the door carefully and peeks in as if to ask for another permission. Mark doesn’t say anything, how could he? It’s almost too much to allow him in, to let him to see him so bare. 

The sound of his socks against the floor is both loud and silent. It’s too fast and too slow at the same time. Donghyuck kneels down next to the tub and looks at him quietly, with attentive eyes and a soft demeanor. Mark wants to shut his eyes. 

So he makes it through the winter. 

What is it worth? It edges impossible to tell at moments like this. 

”What’s up?” Mark asks to light the mood a little but it comes out small and sad. Instead of responding, Donghyuck just lifts his hand and pushes the damp hair off of his forehead. Mark leans into the touch and dares to close his eyes. 

It’s exhausting, ugly and embarrassing. He’s a wreck of a man. But despite all of this, there’s a certainty. A strange sense of comfort in Donghyuck’s warm palm against his face. It’s gone way too quickly but then Donghyuck is climbing in to sit beside him. Mark opens his eyes and the man next to him makes it all a bit more real.

“Not much,” Donghyuck answers, finally, and wraps his arm around Mark’s shoulders. He nods, staring at his knees. 

“How was work?” He asks, just to make it appear a little more normal. 

“Shit. Some kids were holding a birthday party and one of them hit another with a bowling ball. Apparently that’s our fault too.” 

Mark laughs, or tries to. It comes out a bit strained but Donghyuck doesn’t comment on it even though he probably noticed. He’s glad he doesn’t ask the same perfunctory questions back or try to force conversation. It’s what Mark is doing, sure, but he just needed to hear his voice. 

It’s been over eight months since they first met. It had been so out of place and wrong. Now it’s better. 

There’s solidarity in their silence. It’s the things that aren’t being said. The things he doesn’t want to say. Maybe it would be easier if Mark could just point at a spot in his chest and say that _here, this is where it hurts._ But he can’t do that and he can’t explain the way it feels. There’s still comfort in the light, the spring that has arrived, and how he can close his eyes and imagine the sunlight on Donghyuck’s skin. 

But like this, pressed against his side, Mark finally feels truly at ease.

So he stays there.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> u call it out of character i call it projection ladies and gents... lmao mark is a little bitch. im not happy about many things when it comes to this fic but im happy that i wrote it. matters to me more than to u. whatevs. the ending might be garbage but dont call me out on it.  
> no social media where to yell at me bc im an anti. just chill and plllease leave a comment. seriously. ill love u. i love u even if u dont but itd make me very happy.
> 
> another shout out to ollie. bb u are iconic.


End file.
